


harpsichord hearts

by Heronfem



Series: Grace Notes [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, Multi, No beta we die like stregobor should have, Polyamory Negotiations, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Jaskier and Yennefer, a duet in two movements.Or, Yennefer has a music room in her house. Jaskier knows it's his. They work it out.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Grace Notes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822675
Comments: 29
Kudos: 270





	harpsichord hearts

Yennefer has a house. 

This is not overly shocking, in Jaskier’s professional opinion, because she was a court mage for some time and those do not come cheap, but he also knows in a vague sort of sense that she’s sold off a vast number of her things over the years to fund her fertility project. She does a decent trade in other kinds of work now, though, and so- house. 

He _likes_ Yennefer’s house. 

Yennefer’s taste in home decor runs the gamut between eclectic magical artifacts to the most comfortable of beds, couches, and chairs, and she has a library that any noble and some royals would outright salivate over. It’s a big house crammed down in a midsized town where no one would think to look for a sorceress, and the exterior looks like a comfortably sized detached house with a garden and even a patch of clover for sitting and reading. Jaskier likes the clover patch, and the buttercups that she planted out front, even if she pretends it’s only because they coordinate so well with the white daisies. There’s a stable in the back for Roach, though Jaskier’s genuinely not sure whether or not it was there before Geralt walked them through the door with his portalling key. 

But out of all the hideaways and sitting rooms and parlors and really spectacular bedrooms, his favorite room in the house is the one that Yennefer refuses to admit she made for him. 

Yennefer of Vengeberg has a music room in her magical house, and it is undoubtedly Jaskier’s. 

He doesn’t think the window actually faces the real south, but there are massive bay windows enchanted to give him whatever view he likes. He likes to look out at Dol Blathanna, most of the time, and he spends hours in the sunlight just basking as he writes. The room is full of instruments on stands or in cases, mostly student level but all solid worksmanship, but at the far end by the built in bookcases that he’s been putting musical folios on is Yennefer’s most expensive instrument. It’s a rare harpsichord, specially built in Novigrad and shipped to Yennefer, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

To be clear, Jaskier is a devotee of the lute. But he is also, first and foremost, a musician, and the harpsichord is like a massive lute with extra strings and shapely legs. 

Jaskier is very fond of shapely legs. 

He is also fond of keeping all of his bits attached to him and functioning, so he has so far not quite dared actually _touch_ the harpsichord, because Yennefer had shown him to the room and glared and told him not to break anything, as if he’s some sort of godless beast who would damage instruments (note: the alleged incident of his student practice harp aside, rest in peace Lap Harp Cydonia), and Jaskier is now very wary of everything in this room that he doesn’t know how to play perfectly. 

But oh, he wants to play the harpsichord. It’s been ages since he learned and Oxenfurt’s far away.

He spends his days composing some new pieces for the zither and for the standing harp, and some trickier lute pieces for the hell of it too. Sometimes Geralt will pop into the room and sprawl out in a patch of sunlight to nap under Dol Blathanna’s sunshine, and Jaskier spends his hours quietly plucking at each note with tender care. 

It’s on one of these days, Geralt snoozing (read: snoring lightly) in the sunlight like a massive cat that Yennefer joins them. 

“You haven’t played the harpsichord,” she says without preamble, and Jaskier looks up in surprise from the nice little rebec he’s been testing out. 

“Well, no,” Jaskier says, glancing at the beautiful shining wood with undisguised longing. “It’s worth a fortune and you would make me pay if I left so much as a thumbprint on it, so I have not been so stupid as to try.” 

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “You can play the harpsichord,” she says bluntly, and Jaskier cleans and hangs the rebec in record time before rushing to the bench. Geralt makes a vague snuffling noise of annoyance as he almost stumbles over his legs, but Jaskier dodges him and slides onto the bench to reverently lift the lid covering the keys. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” he breathes, running his fingers over the double row of keys. “Do you play, or was this an impulse buy?” 

“I play,” Yennefer says, but there’s a twitch of a smile at her mouth as she takes a seat on one of the couches in the sunlight. “Aedirn’s court was dreadfully boring, but the musicians guild was very favored by the king and was happy to let me sit in for lessons whenever I liked. They were some of the first to ever see the first harpsichords, so I learned early.” 

Jaskier presses a key and closes his eyes at the sweet ringing noise of it, a shiver of happiness running up through his veins. “I love the sound,” he confesses, and puts his hands to the keys. Yennefer relaxes a little with each note as he runs through one of the beginners pieces he’s long since memorized. A quick glance to the floor shows him that Geralt has turned back into a puddle of limbs and curling white hair. He smiles and returns to his playing, focusing on a segue into a more complicated piece. 

When he’s finished it he’s practically glowing with satisfaction at finally being able to play the beautiful instrument, and he looks over to see Yennefer looking back at him. There’s something incredibly soft to her eyes, and he clears his throat. 

“Do you have sheet music for four hands?” he asks before he can think better of it, and he’s not imagining the little catch to her breathing. 

She does. Yennefer sits beside him, her skirts rustling soft against his legs, lilac and gooseberries forever dancing off her skin. “It’s new,” she says, not looking at him. “I’ve heard it performed though. Very pretty.” 

The piece is called _A Fancy ‘for the vyalls’_ , and Jaskier reads through it with interest. It looks like it’ll be fun to play, and if Yennefer’s as good as he expects she is, they should be well enough matched. 

“All right,” he says, putting his fingers to the keys. “I’ll take secondo.” 

Yennefer gives him a small smile, and takes the position of the primo. “You have half a mind, at least,” she teases, and turns her attention to the piece. 

It starts out slow, almost uncertain. Jaskier hides his smile as her hands cross his to reach her notes, the gentle call of each note wafting up to spread through the room. He joins in, his notes equally hesitant, a bit of a dance- a good entrance, for two partners getting used to each other. The notes are steady, deliberate, the trills confining themselves to opposite sides of the keyboard as they slowly work towards each other. It’s gentle and deliberate, but as soon as they hit the center they hold the fermata to let the sound ring through the room. Jaskier’s secondo takes the through line and makes it light, bouncing into an allegro as the chords grow warm. The richness of the sound slowly builds as they reach for their notes, each press of the key an added moment of confidence. The tempo slowly rises in pace, and Jaskier finds himself grinning as Yennefer’s strong hands span to reach each key with perfect timing. He follows her lead easily, and the build grows and grows as they hurtle through this delicate, rich piece together. By the time they’re done, both of them with one finger on the same bright key to finish it on a high note, Jaskier sees what’s happening. 

The note finally fades, and he turns to look at her. His smile softens, turns to something gentle. 

“You could have just asked,” he says gently, and Yennefer resolutely doesn’t look at him. 

“Hmm,” she says, in a remarkable impression of Geralt. 

“I won’t reach,” he tells her, eyes flicking to where Geralt is still sprawled in the sunshine. His golden eyes are open, watching them fondly. He likes this spoiled version of his man, of Yennefer’s man. “You know I’m open, but this has to be your move, with your words. Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving the romance of it, but I need… I need us both to be clear.” 

Yennefer grimaces, fussing with the sheet music. “Wasn’t it enough to buy the harpsichord?” 

“No,” Jaskier says easily, “but it was _very_ sweet of you and I am extremely touched.” 

Her eyes cut to him, and he can see it all there, the worry and nerves. Her hand finds his thigh on the bench, just to anchor herself, and he rests his own much larger hand on top of it. 

“Allow me my selfishness, as I allow yours,” Jaskier says, soft. “I won’t beg for things I need.”

He doesn’t look at Geralt as he says it. They’ve had this conversation, more than once. It’s been a hard lesson to learn through the years. 

Yennefer leans in, free hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, and pulls him into a soft, easy kiss. It’s painfully tender, bordering on anxious, and Jaskier melts into it with a faint sigh of quiet pleasure. When they pull apart, Yennefer says simply, “I like you well enough to keep you, however you’ll stay.” 

“That’s all you had to say,” Jaskier says, and lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles. “And I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, and as long as my freedom stays with me.” 

Yennever goes a delightful shade of pink and pulls her hand away. The tips of her ears go bright red. 

Jaskier leans against the harpsichord and smiles. “Any requests, Geralt?” 

Geralt stretches like a great cat, shirt riding up to expose pale skin. “Come lay down with me,” he says, more rumble than words, and as Jaskier settles into the crook of one arm with Yennefer finding the other, hums a bar or two of their piece with a smile on his face. Yennefer’s hand sneaks over his stomach, opening in invitation, and Jaskier joins their fingers with a happy smile. 

The music room grows quiet in the afternoon sun, and Jaskier rests, content.

**Author's Note:**

> An evening's writing practice. I'm very soft.
> 
> You can find their duet here, at 21:20! https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6fKl8xKfptc&t=2451s


End file.
